Complete Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky (577 page)

He went out; the prince escorted him politely, but I felt offended.

“What are you ruffling up your feathers about?” he fired off suddenly, walking past me to his bureau without looking at me.

“I’m ruffling up my feathers,” I began with a tremor in my voice, “because, finding in you such a queer change of tone to me and even to Versilov I . . . Versilov may, of course, have begun in rather a reactionary way, but afterwards he made up for it and . . . there was perhaps a profound meaning in what he said, but you simply didn’t understand, and . . .”

“I simply don’t care to have people putting themselves forward to teach me and treating me as though I were a schoolboy,” he snapped out, almost wrathfully.

“Prince, such expressions . . .”

“Please spare me theatrical flourishes — if you will be so kind.  I know that what I am doing is — contemptible, that I’m — a spendthrift, a gambler, perhaps a thief. . . .  Yes, a thief, for I gamble away the money belonging to my family, but I don’t want anybody’s judgment.  I don’t want it and I won’t have it.  I’m — the judge of my own actions.  And why this ambiguity?  If he wants to say anything to me let him say it straight out, and not go in for this mysterious prophetic twaddle.  To tell me all this he ought to have the right to, he ought to be an honourable man himself. . . .”

“In the first place I didn’t come in at the beginning and I don’t know what you were talking about, and, secondly, what has Versilov done dishonourable, allow me to ask?”

“Please, that’s enough, that’s enough.  You asked me for three hundred roubles yesterday.  Here it is. . . .”

He laid the money on the table before me, sat down in the armchair, leaned nervously against the back of it, and crossed one leg over the other.  I was thrown into confusion.

“I don’t know .  .  .” I muttered, “though I did ask you for it . . . and though I do need the money now, since you take such a tone . . .”

“Don’t talk about tone.  If I spoke sharply you must excuse me.  I assure you that I’ve no thoughts to spare for it.  Listen to this: I’ve had a letter from Moscow.  My brother Sasha, who was only a child, as you know, died four days ago.  My father, as you know too, has been paralysed for the last two years, and now, they write to me, he’s worse, he can’t utter a word and knows nobody.  They were relieved to get the inheritance, and want to take him abroad, but the doctor writes that he’s not likely to live a fortnight.  So I’m left with my mother and sister . . . that is, almost alone. . . .  In fact, I’m — alone.  This fortune . . . this fortune — oh, it would have been better perhaps if it had not come to me at all! But this is what I wanted to tell you:  I promised Andrey Petrovitch a minimum of twenty thousand. . . .  And, meanwhile, only imagine, owing to legal formalities I’ve been able to do nothing.  I haven’t even . . . we, that is . . . my father that is, has not yet been informed of the inheritance.  And meanwhile I’ve lost so much money during the last three weeks, and that scoundrel Stebelkov charges such a rate of interest. . . .  I’ve given you almost the last. . . .”

“Oh, prince, if that’s how it is . . .”

“I didn’t mean that.  I didn’t mean that.  Stebelkov will bring some to-day, no doubt, and there’ll be enough to go on with, but what the devil’s one to think of Stebelkov?  I entreated him to get me ten thousand, so that I might at least give Andrey Petrovitch that much.  It worries me, it plagues me to think of my promise to give him a third.  I gave my word and I must keep it.  And I swear I’ll do my utmost to free myself from obligations in that direction anyhow.  They weigh upon me, they weigh upon me, they’re insufferable!  This burdensome tie. . . .  I can’t bear to see Andrey Petrovitch, for I can’t look him in the face. . . .  Why does he take advantage of it?”

“What does he take advantage of, prince?” I stood before him in amazement.  “Has he ever so much as hinted at it?”

“Oh, no, and I appreciate it, it’s I who reproach myself.  And in fact I’m getting more and more involved. . . .  This Stebelkov. . . .”

“Listen, prince, do calm yourself, please.  I see you get more excited the more you talk, and yet it may be all imagination.  Oh, I’ve got myself into difficulties too, unpardonably, contemptibly.  But I know it’s only temporary . . . and as soon as I win back a certain sum, then . . . I say, with this three hundred, I owe you two thousand five hundred, don’t I?”

“I’m not asking it from you, I believe,” the prince said suddenly with a sneer.

“You say ten thousand for Versilov.  If I borrow from you now the money will be taken off Versilov’s twenty thousand; otherwise I won’t consent.  But . . . but I shall certainly pay it back myself. . . .  But can you possibly imagine that Versilov comes to you to get the money?”

“It would be easier for me if he did come for the money,” Prince Sergay observed enigmatically.

“You talk of some ‘burdensome tie.’ . . .  If you mean with Versilov and me, upon my soul it’s an insult.  And you say why isn’t he what he preaches — that’s your logic!  And, in the first place it’s not logic, allow me to tell you, for even if he’s not, he can’t help saying what’s true. . . .  And besides, why do you talk about ‘preaching’?  You call him a ‘prophet.’  Tell me, was it you who called him a ‘petticoat prophet’ in Germany?”

“No, it was not I.”

“Stebelkov told me it was you.”

“He told a lie.  I’m — no hand at giving derisive nicknames.  But if a man preaches honour he ought to be honourable himself — that’s my logic, and if it’s incorrect I don’t care.  I prefer it to be so.  And I won’t have anyone dare to come and judge me in my own house and treat me like a baby!  That’s enough!” he shouted, waving his hand to stop me. . . .  “Ah, at last!”

The door opened and Stebelkov walked in.

3

He was exactly the same, just as jauntily dressed; and squared his chest and stared into one’s face as stupidly as ever, imagining that he was being very sly, and exceedingly well satisfied with himself.  On this occasion he looked about him in a strange way on entering; there was a look of peculiar caution and penetration in his face, as though he wanted to guess something from our countenances.  He instantly subsided, however, and his face beamed with a self-satisfied smile, that “pardonably-insolent” smile, which was yet unspeakably repulsive to me.

I had known for a long time that he was a great torment to Prince Sergay.  He had come once or twice when I was present.  I . . . I too had had a transaction with him during that month, but on this occasion I was rather surprised at the way he came in.

“In a minute,” Prince Sergay said, without greeting him, and, turning his back on us both, he began looking in his desk for the necessary papers and accounts.  As for me, I was mortally offended by his last words.  The suggestion that Versilov was dishonourable was so clear (and so astonishing!) that it could not be allowed to pass without a full explanation.  But that was impossible before Stebelkov.  I reclined on the sofa again and turned over a book that was lying before me.

“Byelinsky, part two!  That’s something new!  Are you trying to cultivate your mind?” I exclaimed, I fancy, very unnaturally.

He was busily engaged and in great haste, but at my words he turned.

“I beg you to leave that book alone,” he brought out sharply.

This was beyond all endurance, especially before Stebelkov!  To make it worse Stebelkov gave a sly and loathsome smirk, and made a stealthy sign to me in Prince Sergay’s direction.  I turned away from the fool.

“Don’t be angry, prince; I’ll leave you to your most important visitor, and meanwhile I’ll disappear. . . .”

I made up my mind to be casual in my manner.

“Is that me — the most important visitor?” Stebelkov put in, jocosely pointing at himself with his finger.

“Yes, you; you’re the most important person and you know it too!”

“No, excuse me.  Everywhere in the world there’s a second person.  I am a second person.  There is a first person and a second person.  The first acts and the second takes.  So the first person turns into the second person, and the second person turns into the first person.  Is that so or not?”

“It may be so.  But as usual I don’t understand you.”

“Excuse me.  In France there was a revolution and every one was executed.  Napoleon came along and took everything.  The revolution is the first person, and Napoleon the second person.  But it turned out that the revolution became the second person and Napoleon became the first person.  Is that right?”

I may observe, by the way, that in his speaking to me of the French Revolution I saw an instance of his own cunning which amused me very much.  He still persisted in regarding me as some sort of revolutionist, and whenever he met me thought it necessary to begin on some topic of the sort.

“Come along,” said Prince Sergay, and they went together into the other room.  As soon as I was alone I made up my mind to give him back the three hundred as soon as Stebelkov had gone.  I needed the money terribly, still I resolved to do so.

They remained in the other room, and for ten minutes I heard nothing, then suddenly they began talking loudly.  They were both talking, but Prince Sergay suddenly shouted as though in violent irritation, approaching frenzy.  He was sometimes very hasty, so that I was not surprised.  But at that moment a footman came in to announce a visitor; I motioned him to the other room and instantly there was silence there.  Prince Sergay came out with an anxious face, though he smiled; the footman hastened away, and half a minute later a visitor came in.

It was a visitor of great consequence, with shoulder-knots and a family crest.  He was a gentleman not over thirty, of high rank, and of a severe appearance.  I may remark that Prince Sergay did not yet really belong to the highest circles in Petersburg, in spite of his passionate desire to do so (I was aware of this desire), and so he must have been glad to see a visitor like this.  The acquaintance had, as I knew, only been formed through great efforts on the part of Prince Sergay.  The guest was returning Prince Sergay’s visit, and unhappily came upon him at the wrong moment.  I saw Prince Sergay look at Stebelkov with an agonized and hopeless expression; but Stebelkov encountered his eyes as though nothing whatever were the matter, and without the faintest idea of effacing himself, sat down on the sofa with a free-and-easy air and began passing his hand through his hair, probably to display his independence.  He even assumed an important countenance, in fact he was utterly impossible.  As for me, I knew, of course, how to behave, decently even then, and should never have disgraced anyone; but what was my amazement when I caught on Prince Sergay’s face the same hopeless, miserable and vindictive look directed at me: he was ashamed of us both then, and put me on a level with Stebelkov.  That idea drove me to fury.  I lolled even more at my ease, and began turning over the leaves of the book, as though the position were no concern of mine.  Stebelkov, on the contrary, bent forward open-eyed to listen to their conversation, probably supposing that this was a polite and affable thing to do.  The visitor glanced once or twice at Stebelkov, and at me too, indeed.

They talked of family news; this gentleman had at some time known Prince Sergay’s mother, who was one of a distinguished family.  From what I could gather, in spite of his politeness and the apparent good-nature of his tone, the visitor was very formal and evidently valued his own dignity so highly as to consider a visit from him an honour to anyone whatever.  Had Prince Sergay been alone, that is had we not been present, he would certainly have been more dignified and more resourceful.  As it was, something tremulous in his smile, possibly an excess of politeness, and a strange absent-mindedness, betrayed him.

They had hardly been sitting there five minutes when another visitor was announced, also of the compromising kind.  I knew this one very well and had heard a great deal about him, though he did not know me at all.  He was still quite a young man, though twenty- three, who was handsome and elegantly dressed and had a fine house, but moved in distinctly doubtful circles.  A year before he had been serving in one of the smartest cavalry regiments, but had been forced to give up his commission, and every one knew for what reason.  His relations had even advertised in the papers that they would not be responsible for his debts, but he still continued his profligate manner of life, borrowing money at ten per cent. a month, playing desperately in gambling circles, and squandering his money on a notorious Frenchwoman.  A week before, he had succeeded one evening in winning twelve thousand roubles and was triumphant.  He was on friendly terms with Prince Sergay: they often played together tête-à-tête; but Prince Sergay positively shuddered seeing him now.  I noticed this from where I lay.  This youth made himself at home everywhere, talked with noisy gaiety, saying anything that came into his head without restraint.  And of course it could never have occurred to him that our host was in such a panic over the impression his associates would make upon his important visitor.

He interrupted their conversation by his entrance, and began at once describing his play on the previous day, before he had even sat down.

“I believe you were there too,” he said, breaking off at the third sentence to address the important gentleman, mistaking him for one of his own set; but looking at him more closely he cried at once:

“Oh, I beg your pardon, I mistook you for one of the party yesterday!”

“Alexey Vladimirovitch Darzan — Ippolit Alexandrovitch Nastchokin,” Prince Sergay made haste to introduce them.  This youth could still be introduced.  He belonged to a good family and it was a distinguished name; but us he did not introduce, and we went on sitting in our corners.  I absolutely refused to turn my head in their direction, but Stebelkov began smirking gleefully at the sight of the young man, and was unmistakably threatening to begin talking.  This began to amuse me.

“I met you several times last year at Countess Verigin’s,” said Darzan.

“I remember you, but I believe you were in military uniform then,” Nastchokin observed genially.

“Yes, I was, but thanks to. . . . But Stebelkov here?  How does he come here?  It’s just thanks to these pretty gentlemen here that I’m not in the army now!” he pointed to Stebelkov, and burst out laughing.  Stebelkov laughed gleefully too, probably taking it as a compliment.  Prince Sergay blushed and made haste to address a question to Nastchokin, and Darzan, going up to Stebelkov, began talking of something very warmly, though in a whisper.